


My Mind's Lost in Bleak Visions

by Serenityreview



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Ficlet, Gen, Headcanon, Not Beta Read, One Shot, Season/Series 03, Stiles Has a Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-02
Updated: 2017-10-02
Packaged: 2019-01-07 23:04:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12242376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serenityreview/pseuds/Serenityreview
Summary: Now the question was stuck in his head - what was Derek like before the fire? Was he popular? Did he have friends? Was he able to smile and laugh without restraint? These thoughts won’t leave him alone, so he does what he does best – research. He consumed information, found out everything there was to know about the Hales and Derek.





	My Mind's Lost in Bleak Visions

**Author's Note:**

> This fic had sat in my WIP folder for a long time, because it's suppose to be a part of a series of season 3 canon divergent fics that I wanted to write, but then I left the fandom... so that series didn't go anywhere. 
> 
> I'm posting this here because I'm clearing out my WIP folder. This fic is complete and it can be read a standalone. I don't know if I'll finish the rest of the series, though.

Stiles thought about Derek a lot lately. He blamed the essay he had to write on World War II. He got distracted while doing research for it, which was totally not his fault. World War II was just too big of a topic, how could he focus on one thing when there were so many things that happened during it. Eventually he decided to look into all the military equipment that was invented and used during the war, which eventually led him to pictures of concentration camps and gas chambers. Some hours later he was on the Genocide Watch website and looking up genocides in the 20th and 21st century. It was cold reminder of how humans can be monsters without claws and fangs or full moon driven bloodlust. Then he came across this quote:

_“I once spoke to someone who had survived the genocide in Rwanda, and she said to me that there was now nobody left on the face of the earth, either friend or relative, who knew who she was. No one who remembered her girlhood and her early mischief and family lore; no sibling or boon companion who could tease her about that first romance; no lover or pal with whom to reminisce. All her birthdays, exam results, illnesses, friendships, kinships—gone. She went on living, but with a tabula rasa as her diary and calendar and notebook.”_

His mind jumped straight to Derek. His chest heaved and his eyes were blurred with tears. He sat there wiping away his tears with the sleeve of his shirt. He wasn’t sure whom he was crying for, Derek or the millions that have lost their lives to war and prejudice, maybe both.

Now the question was stuck in his head - what was Derek like before the fire? Was he popular? Did he have friends? Was he able to smile and laugh without restraint? These thoughts won’t leave him alone, so he does what he does best – research. He consumed information, found out everything there was to know about the Hales and Derek.

Turned out someone on the Yearbook Committee had started to digitize the old yearbooks. He found Derek and Laura’s old yearbook photos. God, they had been so young. Derek was on the basketball team. Laura was on the Yearbook Committee. They were smiling in their photos. He also found old footage of Derek’s basketball games.

He now probably knew more about the founding of their town than the mayor. The Hales were there from the beginning. They helped to found the town, helped to name it. At one point they owned over half of Beacon Hills. They had always lived on the Preserve. He had never felt this much hatred toward a dead person before. It made him want to move, to find some way of releasing this energy before he exploded from frustration. If he could he would dig up Kate Argent’s corpse and riddle it with bullet holes and maybe shoot Gerard Argent in the head just for good measures.

Which was why when Scott came over to play video games and complaint about not able to see Allison and other werewolf related things Stiles sort of blew up at him. Which earned him a hurt and confused puppy look from his best friend. It hit him then and there that Scott didn’t see Derek-the-sixteen-year-old whose life was destroyed but rather Derek-the-twenty-something-leather-wearing, brooding werewolf who made his life difficult. It wasn’t Scott’s fault, really. Stiles knew this, but Stiles also knew the agony of losing a loved one. Stiles now had knowledge of who Derek was before the fire and he couldn’t just ignore it. He was already too attached. He tried to convey this to his best friend while gesturing at the photo of the basketball team.

“We had a basketball team?” Was Scott’s first reaction, “Wait, Derek went to our high school?”

“Yes!” Stiles said, “He used to live here, remember? You know, before his family burned to death.”

Scott flinched a little at that. Stiles felt a little bit bad about that and decided to switch topics.

“So did you do that World War II essay yet?”

“We had an essay due?” Scott said, alarmed.

Stiles shook his head at the werewolf and sighed, “Yeah, here I’ll lend you my notes.”

The End.

**Author's Note:**

> The fic title is borrowed from the lyrics of Human by Daughter. The quote in the fic is from Hitch-22: A Memoir by Christopher Hitchens.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
